


Unnaturally Amazing

by retribution_comes



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retribution_comes/pseuds/retribution_comes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of an unnaturally amazing and handsome man (Me, Courfeyrac) who was just trying to live a normal life until angels and demons and dragon people invaded my personal space. Now I'm trying to help save humanity with a 9 man army of supernatural friends who will melt your face off if you try to mess with humankind.<br/>-Courfeyrac</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What The Actual Frickidy Frak?

Everyone wants to go to Paris at least once in their life, right? See the Eiffel Tower, take a selfie with Notre Dame, sit at a café and eat a croissant, go to the Louvre and squeeze through the giant crowed surrounding the Mona Lisa to get a good picture at the front.  There’s even tons of non-cliché things to do there too. But for the sake of this story not starting off as some crappy travel commercial, I’ll just skip ahead and forget the nice opening sequence. 

            A few months ago, I, Matthieu Courfeyrac, a humble law student from Marseille, got to come here to the city of love and lights itself … Paris.  I came here to study for a semester at a nice law school, meet nice new friends, stay in a nice new apartment and party hard like a 22 year old.  As a side note, I did all of those things I mentioned earlier and I have no shame.  The thing is though; people’s experiences in Paris aren’t supposed to involve … angel wings and ghosts. 

            Here’s where you can look to the title to find the appropriate response to what I just said. 

            Yes, indeed folks, you heard me correctly … **angel wings and ghosts.** *Infomercial announcer voice* _Does this ever happen to you? Have you ever come home to find a strange man in your apartment only to wake up the very next morning not remembering he was there at all and find a large pair of wings burnt into your wall?_

            OOH ME! ME, I HAVE! COURFEYRAC HAS!! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING GOOD IN THIS WORLD …

            Tell me there is an easy fix solution to this.  Tell me this is all just a dream.  Tell me the rest of my life hasn’t just changed forever.  Because I love adventure and all that but this is too real, friends, it’s too—

            Wait, no. This isn’t too real. This is too _un_ real. 

            Let me clue you in a little more.

            Marius Pontmercy.  That’s the first guy I ever really became friends with here in Paris.  I met him at a restaurant bar; he just sat next to me and started talking and we got along really well, **almost like we were old friends or something**. He talked kinda funky, really proper, using the formal and sometimes old version of the French language, but I thought it was kinda cool so I didn’t really think much of it. 

            Normalness continued for a while.  I learned that Marius was as “student at the same university as me” and we met for lunch and he helped me with my English homework (as he was an “linguistics major”) and we occasionally had drinks at the Corinth (the place we first met).  I had a friend and damnit if I wasn’t proud of myself for that.  

            Alas, normalness did not continue.  Marius stood me up for dinner one night and I would have been cool with it except he didn’t call or text me to even try to give an excuse.  He did text me the next day though …

_“Hello, friend Courfeyrac. I deeply apologize for being unable to meet you at the Corinth yesterday, I was detained. I am going on a trip that will last as week. I am sorry for not telling you and I am sorry for everything.”_

 

Now, to me, that was a pretty shit excuse. Like, bro, if you don’t want to be my friend anymore just tell me outright.  But whatever.  If this guy didn’t want to hang out anymore, there was nothing I could do about it, so I tried to forget out him.  I could make new friends.

            **_Like the random guy that showed up in my apartment one night._** Yeah, you thought I was kidding didn’t you? Here’s how that shit went down. 

            I came back to my apartment from a long day of classes, ready to just put on some comfortable clothes and collapse on my bed.  I got out my key and unlocked the door and when I opened it, there was a guy standing in my living room.  Being as tired as I was, I guess I actually thought I had unlocked the wrong apartment door and so I apologized and started to close the door.  But here is where it get’s weird … the guy called out my name as soon as I shut the door. 

            The guy knew who I was? He had gotten into my apartment without unlocking it?? HOW??? And you know what’s the real kicker here? 

            I don’t actually remember any of this.  I woke up the next morning in my own bed, feeling like I had just had too much fun at a bar the previous night and I logged onto my tumblr and the followers that I have were asking me …

 

_“Did you ever find out who the guy in your apartment was?_

 

          I had no frickin clue what they were talking about … which they all quickly grew concerned about.

_“read your posts from last night, bro. there was supposedly a dude in your apartment.”_

__

 

_“Look back at your last few posts, man. Something doesn’t add up”_

__

 

_“Courf I need you to think real hard for a second okay. The other day you said there was a random guy in your apartment and they knew who you were. Now you are saying you don’t remember much of that day and you don’t remember the guy. Can you try to remember??”_

 

Now, this made me pretty much go insane.I didn’t remember this guy at all! I had no clue what they were talking about.So you better believe I was dressed in seconds, grabbing my school stuff and getting the hell out of my apartment.… I didn’t even look in the living room, which I should have done.

When I got home that evening …I saw them.A huge pair of wings burnt into the back walk of my living room.I stared for about five minutes and then I approached with caution.I’d never seen anything like it before; the glass in window in between the walls was blown out, the boxes on the far end of the wall were singed as well and you could even clearly see some of the feather outlines at the end of the imprint.I climbed on the couch and carefully touched the singe marks with my finger and **_ZAP!_** This weird electric current traveled all the way through my finger all the way down TO MY FRICKING, EVERLASTIN’ SOUL.I pretty much got as far away from that shit as I could. 

To make matters worse, I took a picture of the wing marks … and no one could see them but me. 

            http://courftheangel.tumblr.com/post/114529537083/hey-courf-the-picture-its-kind-of-dark-so 

          So I made the decision right then and there to move, because this was a nightmare, this was too insane.  I thought that I was going crazy and I almost checked myself into the hospital … but something stopped me.  I don’t know what, but something was always blocking me from stepping that one extra step.  I didn’t check myself into a psych ward and I didn’t sell my apartment.  

            Enter: Marius. 

            He came back.  He showed up at my door one night apologizing profusely for leaving and claiming that he couldn’t talk about where he went or why.  So we decided to pick back up from where we left off … and we went to go have some drinks.

            And it was that night that he told me something that is the reason I am writing all of this down.

            He told me he was a ghost.  He told me he wasn’t real.  He told me he had died a long time ago but had been walking the earth as a ghost ever since then.  

            He told me he had been looking everywhere for me.

            He told me I had lived once too and that I had died in some tiny rebellion all the way back in 1832. 

            He told me I had friends then who also came back to the earth, not as humans, but as something different, something unnatural …

            Something supernatural. 

            He told me the wings on my walls were angel wings.

            And he told me that there was a reason I didn’t become something supernatural like them. 

            And then … and then he walked through a fucking wall.  Which was the trippiest thing I have ever seen, and since I was drunk, I tried too and got a bruise on my head the size of a plum. 

 

            I’d invite you now to go back up to the top and review the title of this once again.  This story is aptly named isn’t it?  I basically just told you that supernatural things exist and that I apparently have a whole squad of them.  So far I’ve just got a ghosty friend but who the hell knows what else is out there? Also, if anyone would like to tell me why I didn’t get to be a dragon or something after the first time I died, that would be great.

            This story seems to be far, _far, **far,**_ from over and if you can see the wings on my wall, you might want to stick with me for this ride, because you may get some cool supernatural powers out of it or something! OR you may die, who knows? And if you can’t see the wings on my wall, that’s probably a really good thing and I kinda wish I were you … except if you keep reading … that might change too …

     


 


	2. My Nerdy Guardian Angel Who Loves Moths And Apple Juice Boxes

           Never thought I’d type that sentence to be completely honest. I feel like we all just need to take a moment and appreciate that title. Because, “My Guardian Angel” would be one thing, right? We’d all be sitting here like, “Wow! Guardian angels do exist and Courf’s got one!” and so on and so forth. But see _this_ title right here says that not only do guardian angels exist and not only does Courf have one, but his guardian angel could teach five-year-olds … or could actually be a five-year-old. Either way, I’ve hit the jackpot in this particular situation.

            So let me back up for a second just in case you are new to this story and what I have just said makes absolutely no sense.

  1. My name is Courfeyrac



Wait, hold on, this would feel more official if I used Roman numerals …

I. My name is Courfeyrac

II. I’m a reincarnated human dude

III. My old friends from the 1800s are all supernatural beings

IV. I’ve met one (Marius)

V.He’s a ghost

VI. I’ve just met another (Combeferre)

VII. He’s the angel aforementioned

VIII. And this is how we met … 

           It had been a long day. First, I had to get up and go to classes and then … then I had to continue going to classes and so it was just a typical long ass day. So anyway, there I was, sitting on my bed, working on a paper** on my laptop, when suddenly I heard a crash. Since I’m the only person who lives in my apartment, I got an appropriate amount of freaked out.

           At first, I assumed it was Marius, because he has totally just walked through my front door before without knocking before and maybe this was just another episode of “Marius Walks Into Apartment And Finds Courf Dancing In His Underwear”. Except I was not in my underwear and the noise that came from outside my door definitely did not belong to Marius.

           “Courfeyrac?!” an unfamiliar voice shouted.

           Well, okay. This random dude crashing around in my living room apparently knew me. Maybe this was the guy from before? The person who somehow broke into my apartment without unlocking the door and left huge wing burns on my wall. I weighed my options … jump out my bedroom window or investigate this guy.

           I am almost ashamed to admit that I thought about this for a good five minutes. The deciding factor? _Yeah, I guess breaking both my legs by jumping out my 4 th story window wouldn’t be ideal. _

           Finally, I mustered up the old courage and got up of my bed and tiptoed to my door. The guy had stopped calling my name but I could still hear him rustling around in my living room. I peered at him through the crack in my door.

           The guy was tall; he had brown wavy hair and a pair of rectangular glasses on his face. He was wearing a suit with a green, military style trench coat over top and his white shirt featured some exciting bloodstains on it.

           I did a double take.

           He was bleeding! The guy had blood running down his nose and lips; his shirt had splotches of the stuff all over it.

           The guy turned frantically and headed for the kitchen, and as he did he knocked over a picture hanging on the far wall behind him.

           … I did a triple take.

           Let me rephrase that last bit … as the guy turned around, _his wing_ knocked over a picture hanging on the far wall behind him.

           I stared. For a good long time, I stared.

           The guy seemed very concerned for the well being of the picture and quickly retracted his wings closer to his back and went to go pick it up. I watched as he carefully replaced the picture on its hook and made sure it was perfectly straight on the wall. He looked at the picture for a moment and then I saw him physically relax.

           “I deeply apologize for ruining your home decor, my friend,” he said.

           My heart stopped. Was he talking to me? Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was talking to Farris my ferret, who was calmly chilling in his cage out there. Or maybe he was an insane person and was talking to himself.

           “Courfeyrac, hiding behind doors does not make you invisible.” The guy turned around and looked directly at me.

           Maybe he still wasn’t talking to me?

           No, damnit, he was. The jig was up.

           I slowly opened the door and stood awkwardly in the frame. Then I said the first and only thing that came to my mind. “Sup.”

           That seemed to please the guy to no end. A huge smile spread across his face and I swear his eyes got a little misty.

           “Courfeyrac,” he said with a little sigh.

           I smiled awkwardly and mimicked his sigh, “Guy in my apartment.”

           He started walking towards me. “Forgive me for staring or for making you uncomfortable but …” he stopped a few feet away from me, still smiling, “… you have not looked at me in 183 years.”

           Well, that made me feel kinda bad for looking away from him but the situation had not become less awkward. I eased out of my doorway and made a fancy arch around the guy to the couch.

           “You’ve got some explaining to do, dude,” I said, sitting down, “because you just appeared out of nowhere and you know my name and … well, I don’t want to be rude but you have things, that should really only be on birds, attached to your back.”

           The guy adjusted his glasses and put his hands behind his back. “You are correct. There are many things I need to explain to you and I am not sure the best way to go about it.”

           “Are you one of my old friends?” I asked. “Marius told me about 1832 and all that jazz.”

           The guy pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. “Yes, I am aware of what Pontmercy has told you and …” he sighed and opened his eyes again, smiling and returning his hand behind his back, “… and I am glad you know now. I am one of the men that you knew long ago.” He took a step forward, brought his hands out from behind his back and rubbed them together anxiously.

           I raised my eyebrow. “You okay, man?”

           He laughed nervously. “Yes, thank you. I have thought a lot about how I was going to do this over the past 183 years.”

           Do what? This guy sounded like he was about to get down on one knee and propose to me. But before I could comment with one of my witty one-liners, the guy extended his arm and said in a shaky but weirdly, overwhelmingly happy voice …

           “Hello, Courfeyrac, I am Combeferre.”

           I stared at him for a moment. I could tell he really wished I remembered him but hey, we were friends like 183 years ago, no one’s memory is _that_ good. But I did feel like I wanted to make him happy so I stood up and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you Combeferre.”

           Combeferre squeezed my hand and grinned. “I am your guardian angel.”

           I stopped shaking his hand. “Come again?”

           He nodded enthusiastically. “When I was brought back to life as an angel, I was given the privilege of becoming your guardian.”

           “Oh.” I lowered myself down onto the couch. “Are you the angel that did that?” I pointed to the wing marks on my wall.

           Combeferre looked at the wall, guiltily. “Yes, I greatly apologize for that night. You really were not supposed to see me, so I knocked you out and doing so caused a bit of a backfire and—“

           I held up my hand. “You know what, Combeferre? I don’t really wanna know at this point.” I stood up and made my way over to the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”

           Combeferre put his hands in the pockets of jacket. “Do you have those boxes filled with squeezed apples, sugar and preservatives?”

           I opened the refrigerator and glanced at him. “You mean apple juice?”

           Combeferre laughed and sat on the couch. “If you would like to call that beverage ‘apple juice’ then go right ahead.”

           I couldn’t help but crack a smile. As creepy as it seemed at the time, there was something about Combeferre’s tone of voice that was familiar. “Well, I don’t have any apple juice in boxes but I do have some I can pour for you in a glass.”

           Combeferre looked disappointed and reluctantly nodded. “That will be fine, thank you.”

           “So, since you are my guardian angel, do you follow me around everywhere?” I asked as I poured him a glass of apple juice.

           He shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, I … I tried that when you were a boy but it became too hard.” His voice lowered. “I could not bear to see you every day and you not to see me.” He took my silence as a cue to continue. “So, I kept my distance, only coming in to help you when you needed it.”

           I returned to the kitchen with two glasses of apple juice. I handed him one and sat on the chair next to the couch. “So … the blood on you now …?”

           Combeferre followed my gaze to his bloody shirt. “Oh, I had completely forgotten!” He waved the issue away. “If you see red human blood, ‘tis but a scratch. I just had to shoo away a little trouble that was on its way over here.”

           Man, did I have a lot of questions. Did angels have a different type of blood? What kind of trouble was on its way over here? Did he make that “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” reference on purpose? Did angels watch movies? However, there was really one huge question that was on my mind that I needed to ask. I wasn’t exactly sure how to phrase it so I didn’t sound like a seven-year-old talking to a superhero but I decided to just wing it anyway.

           “Can you fly?” I asked.

           Combeferre gave me an amused look and put down his glass. “Like a bird? No. My wings are for a different sort of transportation. They are also a mark of my rank.”

           I moved myself over to the couch. “Can I see them again?”

           Combeferre blushed and fidgeted with his fingers. “I do not want to knock anything over again.”

           I waved the issue away. “I don’t give a shit about anything in this place, I’d much rather see angel wings than have a framed picture on my wall.”

           Combeferre seemed to consider his own options. I felt like there may have been something else he was worried about besides knocking over my “precious valuables”. But soon he nodded and stood up. He examined the dimensions of the room and said, “I will not be able to unfurl them all the way, this home is too small for that, but I will do what I can.” He cleared his throat and gently rolled his shoulders.

           I’m sure I looked like an idiot as I watched a pair of long, feathery wings slowly spread out behind him. My mouth dropped open and I sat on the couch, completely stunned, staring at the sight in front of me.

           Combeferre’s wings were made up of dark brown feathers that turned into a burnt red color at the ends. There were a few lines of black and white feathers added to the mix, along with larger patches of white.

           “They are modeled after the wings of a _Hyalophora euryalus_ ,” Combeferre said quietly as I slowly stood up from the couch.

           “A what?” I asked as I circled him to get a better look.

           “A _Hyalophora euryalus,_ also known as a Ceanothus Silkmoth.”

           I poked at the feathers, causing Combeferre to flinch. “Your wings are modeled after a moth?”

           Combeferre smiled and pushed his glasses up further on his nose. “They are. Moths are beautiful creatures.”

           I came back around to his front and looked at him in the eyes, curiously. “You’re pretty human for an angel.”

           Combeferre smiled wider. “I was a human once. I wore glasses, I liked to study the natural sciences, I loved apples … in fact, you, me and Enjolras used to go apple picking every year—“

           I frowned. “Enjolras?”

           Combeferre’s eyes shifted slightly to the left of me and he was silent for a moment. “Just another friend.” His gaze met mine again. “The point being, I am still who I was … and I am still your friend.”

           That comment should have made me happy, and it almost did … but when I looked past his glasses and really looked into his eyes, there was something there that wasn’t human. I mean, I knew he was an angel, I knew he had wings, I knew he was a supernatural being, but I wanted that to be something minor. I wanted his human side to be bigger than his angel side and that wasn’t a thing that was gonna happen.

           I took a tiny step back from him and forced a smile. “I’m glad.” I sat back down on the couch and took a deep breath. “I know I’m supposed to meet all of my old friends tomorrow but …”

           “You are not obligated to do so,” Combeferre said. “I understand that this is all very new for you.”

           I nodded and rubbed my eyes. “Yeah, it is.”

           “You do not have to meet them tomorrow. We will be ready for you whenever you are ready for us.”

           I nodded again and removed my hands from my eyes. “Thanks—”

           I stopped short. Combeferre was gone. I assumed he wasn’t really gone, he was probably standing in the exact same place but he turned himself invisible or some shit.

           It was in that moment that I felt like a crazy person.

           I sighed and got up off the couch. I went over to Farris’s cage and petted him with my finger. “What do you think about all this, buddy?”

           To be honest, I half expected him to reply but thankfully he just continued snacking on his food. Ah, what a simple life a ferret led.

           I was envious.

 

 

           **Tumblr, I was on tumblr.





	3. My Ferret Wears A Snapback

It had been days since my brush with certain doom and I couldn’t stop seeing those eyes everywhere. Those creepy, glowing blue eyes that the monster had stared at me with actually made me re-afraid of the dark. That was mostly because my iphone charger had a tiny blue light that lit up when it was plugged in and sometimes when I woke up at night and saw it I thought it was _the guy._ Combeferre had told me it was a demon but for some reason I had my doubts. In any case, it was safe to say I was officially creeped out. But you know what creeped me out the most? The thought that that guy was probably about a 5 on the scale of 1 to 10 of the creepiest supernatural things I could possibly encounter in my foreseeable future. I needed to teach myself to not get so freaked out by supernatural things. I needed to be tougher and stronger. I needed to frickin’ level up. 

*Super Mario music begins to play* 

Aw yus. 

*Cue the “Mario is dead” little tune* 

Aw no. 

I started feeling sick after my Friday class. It was one of those gross flu feelings where your head feels like it weighs a million pounds and your stomach feels like it’s gonna release the Kraken at any time. 

As soon as I got home I collapsed on my couch and shook my fist at the sky to clearly show my displeasure at getting sick. Farris made noises inside his cage and I knew I needed to feed the poor little dude. 

I feel like getting off the couch was where I made my first mistake, to be honest. As soon as I got up I felt my stomach move around in all kinds of directions that I didn’t particularly enjoy and when I took one step towards Farris’s cage that is when the madness began. 

I ran to the bathroom, got down on my knees in front of the toilet and v[THE FOLLOWING HAS BEEN CENSORED OUT DUE TO EXTREME GROSSNESS]. Finally I managed to crawl out of the bathroom and collapse on my floor. I stayed there for a decent amount of time because I had zero energy to move and also zero motivation. I ran through all the things I had eaten that day in my mind but couldn’t come up with anything suspicious that might have given me food poisoning so I decided what I had must be the flu. 

After a long mope fest on my floor I finally decided to get up and just go the fuck to sleep. Except that didn’t happen because it was time for round two of vomiting … which this time featured blood. Now, I’m no doctor but generally getting the flu does not mean throwing up blood so I was scared out of my mind. 

“C-Combeferre?” I rasped, leaning back against the bathroom wall. “If you’re around, man …” 

I felt a nice and cool gust of wind on my face and caught the vague scent of old books, and suddenly Combeferre was crouching next to me. 

“I am always around,” Combeferre said, looking at me with concern. 

“I think … I think I need a hospital.” I squeezed my eyes shut as another wave of nausea swept over me. 

“Alright,” Combeferre nodded. 

“Could … Could you get me my phone and just call like an ambulance or something?” 

Combeferre stood up and started to wedge his leg between my back and the wall, which wasn’t exactly what I had asked him to do. 

I looked up at him tiredly. “What are you doing there, friend?” 

Combeferre put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed tightly. “I am taking you to the hospital. Close your eyes.” 

Before I had a chance to asking him what the hell he was talking about Combeferre’s wings unfurled and a flash of blinding white light … well completely blinded me. I shut my eyes quickly and felt my body lose contact with everything. The only thing I could feel was Combeferre’s hand on my shoulder and his leg propping up my back. My ears rang so loudly that I almost felt like they were going to start bleeding. 

And then it all stopped … the light, the sounds, the feeling of nothingness. I felt like I was sitting on concrete and it sounded like I was near a street. I pried open my eyes and saw that I was sitting right in front of the doors to the ER of the nearest hospital. Combeferre had literally taken me to the hospital. He had … _transported_ me to the hospital. I made a noise and fell back against Combeferre’s leg and I felt him put two steadying hands on my back. I felt dizzy and nauseous and disoriented times 10. 

Combeferre bent down and put his hands under my arms to help me stand. “As soon as you stand up you are going to vomit. I am sorry.” 

In a daze I got to my feet and sure enough I threw up right in front of the emergency room. 

Damn angels. 

\--------------

I was in the hospital for about a week with the flu (the doctors said that the blood had something to do with irritation of the something something medical stuff) and when I finally was able to leave, I took the human way home. Riding the metro while still on flu medication wasn’t a pleasant experience but I wasn’t quite sure I was ready for another “Angel Express” ride. 

When I got home Combeferre was in the middle of feeding Farris and talking to him in a super chill way. 

“You two having a good conversation?” I asked sarcastically as I dropped my stuff on the floor. 

Combeferre looked up at me and smiled widely. “I am so glad you are alright.” 

I smiled back at him tiredly. “Same.” I could see Combeferre trying to work out in his mind what exactly I meant by my 21th century “same” comment so I quickly corrected myself, “Me too.” 

“Will you return to the University tomorrow?” he asked as I collapsed on the couch. 

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve missed so much shit and it’s gonna take for every to make up and ehhhhhh.” I put a pillow over my face and fantasized about school not existing. 

\--------------

My fantasy half came true the next day when my political science class got cancelled and I got to go home early. It was half a victory and half not because I had a shit ton of class work to do before the final that was coming up soon and going home only meant that now I could get a head start on all that work. Yay. 

As I opened the door to my apartment I psyched myself up to be productive … and of course all of that fell apart once I opened my door. 

There was another random guy in my apartment. He was just sitting on my couch wrapped in a towel that was definitely mine, eating a bowl of frosted corn flakes that were most definitely mine AND wearing a neon pink and green snapback hat I got from a friend back home that read “SWAG” in all neon green letters. He looked decently tall and I could see bright red hair, like the color of Farris’s fur, sticking out from underneath my snapback. 

We stared at each other for a moment. The other guy had a spoon full of cereal half in his mouth and was looking at me with an expression I found weirdly familiar. 

“You’re home early,” the guy said, slowly putting the spoon back into the bowl. 

So by this point I was pretty sick of random people in my house so I decided not to be polite. I slammed the door shut and crossed my arms over my chest. 

“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded. 

The guy didn’t hesitated to answer with, “I’m your ferret, man.” 

I gave him a look that that answer earned but then I saw his eyes shift to where Farris’s cage was and I couldn’t help but look. Yeah … it was empty. I turned back to the guy and he gave me one of those “heh” smiles. 

“Farris …?” I hesitantly walked towards him. 

“It’s Feuilly actually.” 

I sat down on the chair opposite of the couch. “I bought a ferret …” I said, in a daze. 

Feuilly put down his bowl on the coffee table. “Yeah, you bought me for €200 which was a crime by the way. You practically stole me. I should have been at least €300.” 

“Wait, I’m sorry,” I held up my hand to stop his rambling which I wasn’t exactly paying attention to. “Are you a friend of mine? From … you know …” 

“The 1800s?” Feuilly nodded and adjusted the SWAG snapback on his head. “Yep. I’m a shape-shifter.” 

I gave him a look that that sort of comment warranted. I mean, stick an angel or a ghost in my home any day and I’ll be chill with it but a frickin’ _shape-shifter_? That’s some Sirius Black level shit right there. 

Feuilly sighed, seeing my obvious disapproval of HIS LIE. “You want me to prove it don’t you?” 

I shrugged in a nonchalant way that actually said, “hell yes”. 

Feuilly stood up and cracked his neck. “Alright, what do you want me to shift into? I can do anything.” 

“A spoon,” I answered. 

“Any _animal._ ” 

“A goldfish.” 

“Out of all the animals in the entire universe, you want me to shift into a goldfish?” 

“If you can.” 

“Well, I can but I would die because I would be a tiny fish on your carpet floor with no water.” 

I sighed dramatically. “Fiiiine. How about a lion?” 

A smile grew on Feuilly’s face. “Now you’re talkin’.” He threw off the snapback hat and jumped onto the coffee table. 

And suddenly there was a fucking lion licking its paw on my coffee table. The transformation had happened so fast and I so was _not_ prepared for it that within the blink of an eye, Feuilly was gone and a lion was in front of me. 

I scooted back in my chair and pulled my feet off the floor. “Uhhh …” 

Feuilly the lion turned to me and I swear there was a smirk on his kitty-like face. His eyes were still a vivid green like his human ones and his fur was also as red as his hair. I wondered if he’d ever transformed into a whale and if he would be this huge bright red monster. 

Feuilly the lion got off the coffee table, which started to crack under his weight. He sauntered up to me, his tail swishing back and forth lazily, and growled deeply, pushing his face slowly into my personal space. I backed into the chair as far as I could, constantly reminding myself that this lion was my friend and not about to make a snack out of me. 

“Okay, okay …” I squeezed my eyes shut, “I believe you, you’re a shape-shifter.” 

Feuilly backed off and sat in front of my chair triumphantly. I was about to insist that he change back into a human when the most brilliant ideas of all brilliant ideas popped into my head. 

Guys, I’m not going to say I’m particularly proud of this but I promise, if you were given such an opportunity as this, you would not pass it up. Needless to say Combeferre was confused when hepoofed into my apartment and found me standing on the edge of the couch, with “The Circle of Life” blasting on my stereo, holding up a lion cub high above my head. 

I froze. 

“Is that Feuilly?” Combeferre asked. 

I looked at the lion cub in my hands and for a split second thought about lying but it didn’t seem worth it, or realistic. 

I slowly lowered Feuilly, who was looking at me with as much “I am so done with this shit” as a lion cub could possibly muster. 

“Yeah …” I gingerly put Feuilly down and turned off the music. 

“I am glad you both have truly met,” Combeferre said, bending down to pet Feuilly, who had transformed into an orange house cat and was now rubbing up against Combeferre’s leg. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool,” I said. 

Feuilly the house cat turned and hissed at me. 

“He’s really cool, really cool,” I quickly corrected. I looked at Combeferre and frowned slightly at the look on his face. “Is something wrong?” 

Combeferre sighed and sat on the floor. “Things are not well, Courfeyrac.” 

He looked like he had more to say. “And?” I asked. 

“And …” Combeferre looked up at me, “… I would like to talk to you about your part in saving the world.” 


	4. So You Just Found Out You’re Not Human?

Strangely, there is a certain disconnect that comes with finding out you aren’t totally a human like your fellow bros, gals and fluid pals out on the streets. I’m getting a little ahead of myself here and you are probably wondering what sort of strange, sassy, handsome, man-beast I actually am. Let me just take a step back for a second. 

Had Combeferre actually just said the words “your part in saving the world”? Did he really just give my life a cheesy, YA novel meaning? I stared at the angel, waiting for him to continue and tell me what the hell those words meant. But Combeferre just sat on my floor, petting house cat Feuilly who looked like he was having the time of his life. 

“My part in saving the world?” I finally asked. “What the heck does that mean?” 

“It means that mankind is in danger,” Combeferre said in a strangely nonchalant tone. 

I raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh … and what, I’m the only one who can save them?” 

Combeferre chuckled, scratching Feuilly under the chin. “Absolutely not. I said your _part_ in saving them.” 

“Just when I was about to feel special,” I mumbled. 

“You are very special, Courfeyrac.” Combeferre looked up at me and smiled. “Just because other people can do what you can do, does not mean you are not special.” 

I put my hand over my heart and made a duck face at Combeferre. “Aww, stop th—wait.” I dropped my hand and stood up. “What exactly can I do? Wait …” I sat back down. “Are you saying I have super powers? Oh my god ...” I stood up again. “Combeferre am I or am I not a human being? Combeferre, answer me.” 

Combeferre stood and shushed me. “Courfeyrac, please try and relax. What I am about to tell you is potentially life altering.” 

“I’m gonna sit down.” 

“I think that would be best.” 

I sank down onto the couch and looked up at Combeferre hesitantly. “Okay. Alter my life,” I said, as if angels and shape-shifters hadn’t already done some major life altering. 

Combeferre was silent for a moment before finally speaking. “You are strange, Courfeyrac.” 

Well, geez, even I could have told you that. Not many people have a collection of bow ties, socks and underwear that can all match each other no matter what combination they are put in. Of course, I guess that’s not strange so much as incredibly awesome, so maybe Combeferre was telling me new news. 

“You are strange because after dying in 1832 you did not reincarnate like the rest of us.” Combeferre frowned, as if he’d spent lifetimes thinking about this very curious incident. “There is no reason why you should be the outlier. Your death was normal, you were buried in the same place as us, you—” 

“Out of curiosity, how did I die?” I asked. 

Combeferre winced at the question. “I do not know. I died at the same time you did and we were nowhere near each other.” 

“How did you die?” 

Combeferre seemed oddly startled at the question. “I, um …” 

I quickly caught on to his discomfort. “Unless you don’t want to tell me, that’s cool.” 

“No, no, it is a valid question, it just …” Combeferre looked confused. “It seems that I do not remember.” 

“Well, it _has_ been a while,” I pointed out. 

Combeferre nodded, accepting the excuse. Though I had a feeling that he really did want to remember how he bit the dust in the 1800s. I didn’t blame him. I kinda wanted to know too. 

I waved my hand at him. “Continue on, with your life altering news.” 

“Yes, yes.” Combeferre took a breath and continued, “Anyhow, it is very odd that you became the outlier. The rest of us returned from death in the year 1892 and you returned in the year 1993, and on top of that, you are not an otherworldly creature.” 

I shrugged. “Maybe it had something to do with the way—” 

“Except now you are.” 

“Wait … huh?” 

Combeferre removed a black, leather-bound journal from his coat pocket. The cover was scratched up and looked slightly singed. There were several different flat and string-like objects poking out of the top and bottom like bookmarks. It weirdly didn’t seem to fit Combeferre. 

“That’s a cool journal,” I remarked. 

Combeferre opened to a page with a golden piece of braided string marking it. Feuilly had transformed back into a ferret and scuttled up Combeferre’s back to perch on his shoulder, looking down at the journal. “It is not mine,” Combeferre said, “it belonged to the Wraith that tried to kill you.” 

I shifted uncomfortably at the mention of that creepy fella. “He was a Wraith? Like a Ringwraith from _The Lord of the Rings_?” 

Combeferre turned a few pages of the journal. “Alas, he is not as tame as Monsieur Tolkien’s creations—ah.” Combeferre seemed to have found the correct page in the journal and he turned it and held it out in front of me. 

On first glance, the writing was made up of strange rune type things that I had only seen in games and on history documentaries. Then, the markings started to dance around in front of my eyes and flip over and I started to think that maybe I had dyslexia that was exclusive to runes. I blinked a few times to get a better look and then … the writing was in French, as if the runes had never been there. Before I could question Combeferre about it, a word stood out to me on the page. It was at the very top in big black letters. 

PRAEFATOR 

“What is a Praefator?” I asked, rather calmly. 

Combeferre retracted the journal. “A being that is neither human nor supernatural. A being that has the power to do so much more than just be able to translate Futhark into their native tongue. A being that can see unnatural creatures and supernatural beings without even trying. _You,_ Courfeyrac, you are no outlier. You are a bridge between mortals and immortals.” 

Huh. Well that was a lot of information to process. 

My life started to stretch. Suddenly my biggest fear wasn’t my political science exam, my biggest procrastination wasn’t that I needed to go grocery shopping, my biggest question wasn’t what was going to happen between Clarke and Lexa on The 100. No, now I was afraid of monsters, and I was procrastinating on questioning Combeferre about how could I possibly help save the world, and my biggest question … well I mean the Clarke and Lexa thing was still up there BUT more importantly … what the hell was threating the world? My stomach was in knots; it felt like I was being told that the universe was infinite and had no borders but was still expanding, all over again. 

“Courfeyrac?” Combeferre’s voice cut through my thoughts. 

I turned to him, wishing now more than ever that I felt like we had actually been friends for years and that I could just collapse in his arms and we could cuddle for a sec and it wouldn’t be weird. I still felt like I was alone. 

“I’m … okay,” I assured him. “This is just a lot.” 

“If it makes you feel a little more assured then please know that you are … incredible.” Combeferre looked at me with a strange sort of amazement. “People like you only appear once every one hundred years—” 

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously? One hundred years? Why is it always something like that? How is the cliché so real?” 

“Courfeyrac, listen to me,” Combeferre drew my attention back towards him. “The last Praefator appearance was in 1932.” 

I thought about that for a moment. “Well, 1932 was only …” 

“83 years ago,” we both said at the same time. 

“So … you think that the reason I was born was because the world is in super danger or something?” 

“You were born because your parents wanted to have a child. Praefators are awoken, not born,” Combeferre explained vaguely. “You were awoken 17 years too early.” 

“Because the world is in trouble?” 

“The mortals are in trouble. The world will keep on spinning.” 

I swear everything Combeferre says could be used as the catchphrase for a movie or something. 

“Okay, so mankind is in danger … so what is my role in this? Why was I ‘awoken’ early?” I asked, putting air quotes around the word “awoken”. 

Combeferre fake-thought for a moment. I knew it was a fake moment of thinking because he clearly knew so much more information than he was telling me. I spoke up first. “It’s the things that keep on attacking me, isn’t it?” 

Combeferre’s ever color-changing eyes shifted to mine. “Yes.” 

“Who are they?” 

“A very dangerous organization.” 

I stared at him, expecting more information than something I could have deduced on my own. “And?” 

“And I need to find out more about them.” 

“’Ferre, you have their journal! Are you t … why are you looking at me like that?” 

A warm smile had suddenly appeared on Combeferre’s face. “You called me ‘Ferre.” 

To be honest, I didn’t even notice that I’d called him something different, but a nice and happy feeling spread through my chest for some unknown reason. I shook it off and continued my rant. 

“Combeferre. Are you telling me that an evil organization didn’t write down all of their master plans in their secret journal? That’s like rule one for all evil organizations!” 

Combeferre frowned. “Courfeyrac, treating this like a bedtime story is not the way to deal with it. This is real. In real life, when evil organizations have journals, they don’t fill it with their plans.” 

I was pretty sure I was still going to treat it like a bedtime story as a coping mechanism … but I decided against saying that out loud. “So what is in there besides information about Praefators?” 

Combeferre flipped through the pages. “Information about every other sort of supernatural creature.” 

I nodded. “Well, maybe that’s a clue.” 

Combeferre closed the journal. “The Wraith let me take it. I think it was a threat more than a clue.” 

“Ah.” I sat back on the couch. “So they want to kill me?” 

Combeferre sighed. “It would seem that way.” 

And once again, I felt utterly alone. It’s in the times of hardship, when a supernatural gang has put a hit out on you, that you really do need the support of friends. 

“But I’ll protect you, Courf,” Combeferre looked at me with a small smile. “I will always protect you.” 

“That’s cause it’s your job.” I said, allowing a smile to form on my face. 

“It’s a job I chose.” 

I smiled wider at him and then dropped my eyes to the floor. “I want to meet them.” 

Combeferre sat up a little straighter. “What?” 

“I want to meet them,” I repeated. I needed this. I’ve always needed to have people around me, people to support me, people I could support. And so what if they weren’t all human? So what if they all turned out to be a group of shape-shifting turtles or something? At least at some point they had been people I trusted and loved, and I wanted that again. “I want to meet mes amis.” 


End file.
